


a little unsteady

by redledgers



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Post-Season/Series 04, Returning Home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers
Summary: The thing that had taken residence behind her ribs ever since he left grows claws, tears into the softness of her until she is dashing to the bathroom, trying not to slip on the pieces he left behind.





	a little unsteady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arlome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlome/gifts).

> Arlome, you know why :)c  
Thanks to Obli for a quick beta

She goes up to the penthouse to drink, to dust, to _hope_, but only occasionally, when she feels as if her heart has been patched together enough this time around.

This time, she hears the sound of the shower as she heads toward the bar and pauses, her hand ghosting over the rim of a glass. She wonders if it’s Maze with a lover, or perhaps Eve with nowhere to go but here. Neither she would mind, but she would rather not, not right now. It feels wrong for them to be here when he _isn’t_, but Chloe has learned to pick her battles to save her heart.

And so she turns to leave, deciding that a drink is a bad idea, but as she moves toward the elevator, something catches her eye. A trail of ash, dusted across the floor, littered with feathers and something that Chloe can’t not recognize as _blood _even in the dim light. Too many crime scenes have trained her, and she really wishes they hadn’t.

The thing that had taken residence behind her ribs ever since he left grows claws, tears into the softness of her until she is dashing to the bathroom, trying not to slip on the pieces he left behind. It feels like forever, like the room is too far away. She already feels _too late_. “Lucifer,” she breathes when she stops at the threshold.

He’s crumpled on the shower floor, cheek pressed to the tile, and his wings are crooked and _wrong_. She’s not even sure if he’s _conscious_ as water pours over his face. Chloe stumbles, yanked toward him by the thing that keeps growing, because _it’s been so long, too long_, and yet here he is. She drops to her knees, presses her fingers to his forehead, his chest, searching for the source of the blood that crosses his torso in watery streaks.

His skin is burning, and she doesn’t know if it’s from the water or from Hell, but she feels his heart beating beneath her fingertips and thinks that might be enough. “Lucifer,” she says again, finding his body too much, too heavy to move, weighed down by wings and water. Belatedly, she reaches to fumble with the spigot, ceasing the crescendo of the shower until she is sitting with him in silence. It does nothing to help her think. She should call Maze, or maybe Amenadiel. Hell, even _Dan_ would be of use at this point if only to help her drag this sodden weight of a man out of the shower.

She’s so lost in her worry that she startles when he splutters, an aching, wet cough bursting free from his chest. His eyelids flutter, and he seems so fragile that Chloe barely dares to brush his cheek with her fingertips. And then his grip is a vise around her wrist, yanking her hand away in a mimicry of the gentleness with which he had done it so long ago, when she reached for his scars. There’s a flurry of limbs and feathers, and when she blinks, he is cowered in the far corner of the shower, a broken animal making one last attempt at a stand.

Lucifer’s eyes are wild and unfocused, and she wonders how much of himself he has lost, how long it has been. It hurts until his gaze slips to her, and some of the glassiness fades. Something akin to hope flickers across his face, something he must have lost while he was there. _How long, how long, how long?_ “Chloe,” he says, like her name is a prayer, his salvation, and then he coughs again, retching bile and blood until he is spent and slumped against the wall.

When he reaches for her, she goes to him, settling into his lap. He pushes a wet lock of hair back from her face, and she runs her hands over his chest, his stomach, seeking the tenderness that is causing him pain. “What do you need?” she asks when she comes up empty and resigns herself to worrying at the curls that are starting to spring from his drenched hair. She’s not sure she can give him what he needs, but maybe he’ll let her try.

“I wanted to come home,” he says after a moment, leaning his forehead against hers. His breath still rattles in his chest and she splays her palm there as if she could bind it together again.

Even as the words leave her mouth, she knows he won’t, _can’t_, tell her. Not now, at least. But still she asks, “What happened?”

He kisses her then, burning hands against her cheeks, lips feverish against hers. He’s almost too rough, as if he hasn’t quite left his mantle behind him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, his homecoming. This wasn’t what she had wanted, what they deserved. So she stops him, sits back, and traces the cut of his jaw with her fingers.

“Is something wrong?” he asks in a voice that seems too small for the man she knows he is.

Chloe bites her lip and shakes her head. “No, no, just…” She drops her hand from his face, fingers now itching to touch the wings that have taken up so much space in this too large shower. “You should clean up, and if you’re hurt…”

Lucifer sighs, shoulders heaving, and when he coughs this time, it seems like whatever it is has lessened. “You’re right, as usual, Detective.” It doesn’t take much for him to nudge her off of his lap, and they stand together. For a moment, she catches a glint in his eye, something of his usual self, as if he means to ask her to join him but buries it somewhere for later. 

Stepping back, she sees now his wings are bunched up, still too large for the space they’re in, and she hums. “I’ll be right outside,” she says, “if you need anything.” She needs a change of clothes herself, would like to brush her teeth, even, but she supposes she can find something in his endless closet to remedy the first problem. And someone needs to clean up the mess he left.

His smile is fragile, but it is there, and he begins to strip off the rest of his clothes before turning the water back on. Chloe turns away to leave, but she stops at the door to glance back. “Welcome home, Lucifer,” she says softly, and doesn’t miss the way his wings perk, the way his face lights up, and _oh_ she hasn’t seen that smile since before he left. She knows it means that he’ll be all right. They’ll be all right.


End file.
